


After School Special

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Arguing, Bullying, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Enemies to Friends, First Meetings, Junior High, M/M, Panic Attacks, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Principal Chuck, Protective Parents, mention of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Please, it’s grade school flirtation 101. Getting all competitive, calling me names…” Dean makes a point out of hooking his thumb behind his stubbled chin and his bent index finger over it. “Huh. Maybe you’re the bully.”“Well, makes sense, you seem to know a lot about junior high kids—probably because you are one.”





	After School Special

Chuck Shurley reaches over for the tub of lotion sitting precariously on the edge of his cluttered desk. In not one, but multiple swift motions, he pumps the top, sending lotion everywhere. Grunting, he wipes his Grumpy Cat tie as well as the left sleeve of his suit. Then, taking the rest in his hands, rubs them together rather violently.

"Um... we're here to discuss an altercation, right?"

Chuck peers up from his vigorous hand exercise like someone's just caught him rubbing in something very _different._ "Right," he confirms, adjusting his name plate. "Yes, um... Mr..."

"Novak," the man confirms with the drop of his head, looking at Chuck through curious, if not slightly concerned blue eyes. "Castiel Novak. I'm Jack's father."

Chuck nods a little too firmly. "Right. And you are?"

The other man in the room glances from Castiel to Chuck. "Dean," he says carefully, "Winchester. Didn't you call _us_ here?"

"Precisely," Chuck laughs nervously, picking up a packet from his desk. You'd think they were in a mild earthquake with how bad his hands are trembling. "So... um... Dean. We’ve noticed your son Ben has been a little more… hostile… than usual these past few months…”

"That?" Dean asks, pointing to the thick white blur in Chuck's hands. " _That's_ his record?"

"No, no, this is a complete list of known anxiety medications. I'm crossing off the ones that've failed.”

There’s a brief silence in which Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel leans forward. “So… what exactly happened?”

“Ah, right, well Ben…” Chuck wrings his slender, greasy hands over his desk. “Ben thought it would be suitable to shove Jack into the drinking fountain next to first period, making it look like Jack…”

Castiel narrows his eyes.

Chuck responds with a tight-lipped smile.

“Pissed,” Dean speaks up, looking to Castiel. “See, you shove a kid hard enough into a busted fountain, he rams into the lever and if the water shoots out just right, it makes it look like he pissed himself. It’s a classic prank.”

Castiel’s expression only grows harder. “ _Excuse_ me?” he remarks, flooded by a sharp intake of hot air from his chest, like a slashed hot air balloon, “You call a physical confrontation a _prank?_ My son could have a concussion! Would you be laughing at that?”

“I can assure you, Mr. Novak, your son doesn’t have a con—”

“Dude, chill out,” Dean scoffs, holding up a hand in front of the man’s penguin attire and large, all-encompassing trench coat that looks more like a pair of wings falling on either side of him. “Boys—”

“I swear to God, if you say boys will be boys,” Castiel threatens.

Dean throws up his hands. “Pfft. And yet _I’m_ the father of the menace.”

“No, you _are_ a menace.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing,” Castiel assures, scoffing. “Jesus, you sure are chatty.”

“Slow your role, Jesus freak,” Dean laughs scathingly, “God wouldn’t appreciate you hitting on me right now.”

Castiel throws his head back. “Really?” he laughs in the same fashion, “ _I’m_ hitting on you?”

“Gentlemen—” Chuck tries to intersect before Dean cuts him off.

“Please, it’s grade school flirtation 101. Getting all competitive, calling me names…” Dean makes a point out of hooking his thumb behind his stubbled chin and his bent index finger over it. “Huh. Maybe _you’re_ the bully.”

“Well, makes sense, you seem to know a lot about junior high kids—probably because you _are_ one.”

“Mr. Novak—”

“At least I can relate to my son,” Dean fires back, ignoring Chuck. “You look more like a third tier agent than a father.”

“What’s wrong with being a fiscally responsible parent?”

“You just proved my point using the word ‘fiscally’.”

“At least I don’t look like a lumberjack.”

“Mr. Winchester, please,” Chuck begs, “I… ah… _oh—”_

A loud, desperate wheeze cuts through the small office. Dean and Castiel tear their heated gazes from one another to the principal clutching his throat. “Hey, hey, whoa!” Dean exclaims, jumping from his seat. “Hey!” he yells into the hallway, throwing the door open, “We need a medic! Call an ambulance, now!”

On the other end is Castiel, completely calm. “Hey, Chuck,” he says, smoothing out the sharp edges in his deep, raspy voice, keeping a steady hand on his back, “you’re okay. You’re having a panic attack. Breathe deep breaths through your nose. In and out.”

It takes him a minute, and it’s more of a staccato than normal breathing, but Chuck seems to calm a little.

“Good, good,” Castiel encourages. “You’re fine, see? Your heart is fine. It’s just the anxiety.”

“It’s… yeah…” Chuck agrees lamely, his tanned face etched with exhaustion.

Dean’s emerald eyes widen at the whole exchange. He’s not sure how long he’s staring at Castiel until the medics arrive on the scene.

 

 

 

“Well, that was…”

“Yeah,” Castiel agrees, mimicking Dean scratching his neck.

Dean shifts in his stance. Briefly, he directs his ears to the wind’s whisper, brushing against his short caramel hair and the collar of his purple flannel underneath his black leather jacket, tickling his exposed neck. Then, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans and goes for it: “How did you know what to do? Back there, I mean, with Chuck?”

A plaintive smile crosses Castiel’s face. “Jack, um… he has chronic panic attacks. Has since he was little. With the help of a good therapist and a lot of late-night, coffee-fueled research, I was able to learn some new tricks.”

Dean closes his eyes and sighs before scrubbing a hand over his face, “God, I’m so stupid.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel says, shrugging, “How could you have known? Most kids his age don’t have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, well, most kids his age aren’t little assholes, either,” Dean deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Ben’s a good kid. He’s had a rough going since his mom wound up in the hospital. Car accident.”

Castiel’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. Luckily. He does have really nice eyes, he thinks. It reminds Dean of a Kansas night sky during a meteor shower. “Wow. I… I’m sorry to hear that. Will she be okay?”

“Don’t know,” Dean replies, shaking his head when he feels tears stinging his eyes. Usually, he would apologize for getting emotional, but despite their blowout earlier, there’s something about Cas’s presence that makes him feel comfortable—comfortable enough to nickname him Cas. “I guess I see myself in him too, you know?” Dean continues, smiling. Cas returns the smile, wide, flat lips stretching around his dark stubble. “I mean, I was a _bad_ kid. I smoked, drank, flipped off teachers when I felt like it, skipped class to have sex in the _weirdest_ places with some of the _weirdest_ people…” Dean shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“I see myself in Jack too,” Cas replies. “I think maybe that’s why I got so defensive earlier. I was quiet. Shy. Kind of weird. So naturally I got harassed on a daily basis.” Cas shakes his head with a laugh, “And then I decided to join the LGBT club in high school, which helped me find my voice, even when the bullying got worse... it kept me sane. But Jack doesn’t have something like that. Or, at least, he hasn’t found it yet.”

“He has you.”

Castiel blinks a few times before a full-on dimpled smile breaks free. “I don’t know,” he says, directing his gaze to the hole he’s trying to dig into the cement beneath his feet, “sometimes I think I drive him _in_ sane, but…”

“Well, that could also be true,” Dean replies. “I’ve only known you less than a half hour and you’ve already managed to get on every nerve in my body.”

Cas scoffs, but the smile doesn’t leave his face so easy, “ _Men-ace,”_ he emphasizes. “But I have to give it to you… you were right about me hitting on you.”

“I…” Dean nods his head slowly and returns his fingers to his chin. “Huh. _Interesting.”_

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” Cas concedes, blushing. “You’re still a menace, though.”

“Whoa hey, okay,” Dean says, grinning. “How ‘bout instead of humiliating each other, we humiliate our kids?”

 Cas raises an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued. Continue.”

 

 

 

Let’s just say the next day Jack Novak and Benjamin Winchester get called into the assistant principal’s office a few minutes later to discuss their parents’ inappropriate behavior.


End file.
